


Enterprise NX-27

by sam80853



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam80853/pseuds/sam80853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benton Fraser may not be a Vulcan. But he acts like one...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enterprise NX-27

„Huey, dammit, keep your eyes on the road,” Captain Harding Welsh screams at his helmsman Ensign Jack Huey. “It would be a shame to damage the flagship of our fleet!” His voice is filled with sarcasm, knowing very well how difficult it is to navigate a ship as big as ‘Enterprise NX-27’ through an asteroid field.

Welsh opens a channel to the engine room of his ship, pushing a button on the right side of his captain’s chair.

“Bridge to engineering!” He’s still yelling. “Kowalski!”

“What?” Commander Kowalski’s voice sounds more than a bit annoyed through the intercom.

Since his wife – ex-wife – Commander Stella Kowalski had asked for a transfer to another ship and therefore for a divorce, Kowalski had been a little on edge. Even more so after their tragic loss of Ensign Botrelle on Alpha Centauri a few weeks – and light years – ago for which Kowalski blamed himself.

Post traumatic stress syndrome, Dr. Gustafson calls it, affecting Kowalski’s sleep pattern and could easily result in a complete breakdown.

Welsh is worried but Kowalski is the only Engineer on board and therefore indispensable. Maybe he should make his request for Kowalski receiving help from their science officer, Sub-Commander Fraser, an order.

But right now Welsh needs their engine running.

“I need Warp 5, Kowalski,” he demands. “As soon as we leave the asteroid field we have to jump out of here.”

“I only got two hands, Captain,” Kowalski complains via the intercom. “And those are already full.”

Welsh sighs. Of course Kowalski does what he can but …

“Sub-Commander,” he turns in his chair to his science officer, wondering once more what brought a Canadian officer onto his ship.

Originally an Officer from Vulcan was supposed to serve aboard ‘Enterprise’ – those Vulcans still weren’t convinced that humans are to be left on their own in space - but they ended up with a Canadian Mountie instead.

Oh yes, Canadians are a part of Star Fleet now and they have well-trained officers as well if Sub-Commander Fraser was anything to go by. Unbelievable the things that man knows – useful or not.

“Sir!” Fraser stands at parade rest, his red uniform shining brightly – Welsh just couldn’t convince him to dress like one of them - awaiting his orders.

“Please lend Commander Kowalski a hand.”

“Understood,” Fraser nods, turns on his heels, leaving the bridge.

As soon as Sub-Commander Fraser leaves the bridge the atmosphere changes. Tactical Officer Thomas Dewey relaxes visibly; glad to escape Sub-Commander Fraser’s observant eyes.

He can’t believe that the Canadian still blames him for the accident that cost them Shuttlepod Two. They were testing a new weapon and … things can happen when you’re testing alien technology, no reason to still be grumpy about it.

Ensign Francesca Vecchio, communication officer aboard, on the other hand sees Sub-Commander Fraser go with mixed feelings. She’s finally able to concentrate on making sense of the message from the Klingon ship Welsh asked her about two hours ago, and not to be worried if her hair is still perfect, showing Fraser her best side all the time. He’s never going to recognise her anyway.

~::~::~

Fraser is on his way down to Engineering as requested, his footsteps resounding through the corridor.

Performing his duty aboard an American spaceship turned out to be more complicated than expected.

He very well knows that he’s different from those men and women aboard but at least they are from the same species, that’s what he figures anyway, ignoring their whispering about having a Vulcan aboard after all.

Perhaps his upbringing and isolated life in the Territories as a youth makes it so problematical to ‘bond’ with anyone aboard. Except for Commander Kowalski. He took immediately liking to the man, despite his rude diction and experimental hair that really doesn’t suit an officer of Star Fleet but is quite fetching on Kowalski, Fraser has to admit.

Fraser looks forward to work with Kowalski again, his quick mind and often restless energy keeps Fraser on his toes but seems to lead to some difficulties in keeping his growing feelings for the man under wraps as well.

Despite what everyone aboard may think, he’s highly capable of deep emotions and different from Vulcans who only have to mate every seven years, he’s not averse to mate with Kowalski at all.

Oh dear.

He should better get rid of that particular train of thought if he doesn’t want to embarrass himself while working side by side with Kowalski.

Perhaps it would be wise to concentrate more on Kowalski’s growing sleeping problem and therefore his erratic temper than on his attraction which obviously doesn’t alleviate Fraser’s desire to be with him.

Dr. Gustafson already recommended Fraser’s neuropressure treatment which he learnt on Vulcan during an exchange program between the RCMP Academy, Regina, and the Vulcan Science Academy, as did Captain Welsh. But Kowalski refuses to be helped by Fraser.

Neuropressure treatment requires a high degree of trust, Fraser knows this first-hand, a trust put in him he would never take advantage of.

This particular treatment, which involves massaging and manipulating muscles and nerve centers on the body in order to relieve stress, often leads to sexual arousal, climax even.

Oh dear.

~::~::~

Ray kicks against the not fast enough opening door out of the mess hall where he just wanted to get a cup of hot coffee but ran into Welsh instead, ordering him to Fraser’s quarters to finally do something against his sleeplessness.

What was it to Welsh anyway?

He did sleep – two minutes last night - for the love of God and as long as he’s performing his duties Welsh should mind his own damn business.

But instead recommending Fraser’s nero-something Welsh made it an order this time and if Ray didn’t want to end up in the brig he better does what the Captain says.

Dammit!

Ray had read about that particular treatment as soon as Mort had recommended it, he wasn’t stupid, knowing very well that he would make a terrible mistake sooner or later if he can’t get his sleep problem under control.

The treatment isn’t the problem here; it’s Fraser or better Ray’s possible reaction to Fraser touching him.

Yeah, he knows that arousal is to be expected, getting off even, but doing so in front of Fraser is just … wrong.

Not wrong wrong, mind you, ‘cause Ray really likes Fraser but he doesn’t want to scare the guy off by moaning Fraser’s name while shooting down his pants.

Fuck!

Ray presses the buzzer to Fraser’s quarters – it wouldn’t be his fault if ‘Enterprise’ looses their science officer when this night came to an end.

“Commander,” Fraser greets Ray, just standing in front of Ray in a grey shirt and white boxer shorts.

“Frase,” Ray swallows, unable to look anywhere but at Fraser’s collarbone, visible through a small hole in his shirt.

“Please, come in.”

It’s like entering the Twilight Zone – not only does Fraser look different (he’s out of his uniform, did Ray mentioned that already?) but his quarters don’t look anything like Ray had expected either.

There are burning candles everywhere on the ground, except for a small space where Fraser had spread out a blanket, creating an atmosphere of intimacy.

“Get out off your uniform, please,” Fraser asks in a low voice, sitting down on the blanket on the ground, “and take a seat.”

He’s never going to survive this, Ray thinks as he wriggles out of his jumpsuit and sits down beside Fraser who surprisingly pulls his shirt over his head and off of him.

Ray has trouble breathing, confronted with all those white, soft-looking skin – what the hell is Fraser doing?

“Commander?”

“Ray,” Ray says.

If he’s going to be touched by a half-naked man he at least should call him by his first name.

“Thank you, Ray,” Fraser answers and for what he’s thanking him exactly Ray doesn’t know, doesn’t dare to ask with Fraser’s hands on his shirt, pulling it off of him.

Ray’s feeling Fraser behind him all too clearly, Fraser’s warm strong hands massaging his neck, back and shoulders … nice, Ray sighs, hanging his head, baring more of his neck to Fraser’s capable hands.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all; it’s like an ordinary massage - why didn’t they say so in the first place?

Another deep sigh escapes Ray’s throat, followed by a yelp when Fraser lift Ray’s arms, touching his armpits, almost tickling him.

“I’m sorry,” Fraser whispers softly but keeps touching places all over Ray’s body.

Shoulder blades, ribs, hands, fingers – Fraser seems to be wrapped around Ray’s body from behind, his heavy breathing loud in Ray’s ear, and Ray can’t help but react to this all-around assault.

He’s sweating and his dick seems to be hard for hours – it’s the stimuli, he guesses, the intimacy in the room. Nothing of this is even remotely comparable to a clinical therapeutic massage by a professional masseuse, it’s like Fraser is making love to his body.

“Sorry,” Ray whispers, blushing slightly, when Fraser recognized his hard-on.

“Not to worry, Ray,” Fraser’s voice is low and steady, but his eyes are fixed on Ray’s tented briefs.

“We can stop if you …”

“No,” Fraser shakes his head, turning his eyes away. “Please, lay down on your back, Ray,” and Ray does as he’s told, giving in completely – to Fraser’s hands and eyes which seems to file each centimeter of his skin.

His breathing becomes quicker with Fraser’s hands roaming all over his body, his cock getting impossibly hard. He couldn’t possibly take much more of this without … Ray opens his eyes, not remembering squeezing them shut in the first place, catching Fraser looking hungrily at Ray’s tented briefs, his hands almost petting Ray’s waist.

Oh God!

Fraser is as hard in his boxers as Ray is and …

“You can take them off if you want to,” Ray says gently, wriggling his hips suggestively, and Fraser looks up, into his eyes, questioning his motivation for such an invitation.

Ray smiles, reaching for Fraser’s head to pull him in for a kiss.

Fraser’s lips are as soft as his hands are strong, kissing the hell out of him while getting rid of their underwear.

Ray had felt Fraser before, his body behind him, his hands on his skin but this is nothing like before. He doesn’t have to fear taking advantage, of receiving pleasure by a touch meant as a treatment.

Deep moans escape Ray’s throat while Fraser’s is kissing his neck, biting down on his shoulder, his hands never stopping anywhere for long, avoiding his straining cock completely, knowing very well that one touch would finish Ray off. He’s been in this aroused state for too long to have any control left.

“God,” Ray growls, he wants to come, has to, now, and guides Fraser’s right hand to his cock. “Please.”

One stroke of Fraser’s capable hand and Ray climaxes, his body shuddering in release, his hands holding Fraser close, kissing him.

“Thanks,” Ray whispers, already dropping off to sleep, not even noticing Fraser reaching his own orgasm.

 

The End


End file.
